Wrapped Up in You: Reboot
by Al Harris
Summary: Rebooting a story I published a long time ago, and then deleted. To those who liked the original: sorry I took it away from you, and I hope you like the new one just as much, if not more. Thanks for reading!


Wrapped Up in You... Reboot

A Batman/Monster High Crossover

Author's Note: First, let's get the obligatory disclaimers out of the way... Monster High, and all it's characters, are owned by Lisi Harrison and Mattel; the Batman-based characters are all co-owned by all the authors, artists, and colourists at D.C. comics, who work on the series.

Secondly, I want to say that it's great to be "back in the saddle", so to speak. I did a total reboot of my life, my stories, my style... my everything. Things are going great now, except for one thing: I feel guilty. My loyal readers expected for my stories to remain up for their continued enjoyment, and I feel at least a little selfish and juvenile in taking all my stories down. That's why I plan to reboot all of the ones I can remember. If anybody out there wants to help me out with a list, I'll do my best to put the proverbial Humpty Dumpty of my work back together again. Thanks for understanding and supporting me during this time, and again, my most sincere apologies.

Thirdly, as a little side-note, I plan to delete "Carmilla, Revisited", as I don't feel like the story's going anywhere, and my motivation for it has subsided into nothing. I hope I don't upset anybody too much by this decision; if I do feel the inspiration for it again, I'll gladly reboot it, too.

Without further ado, here's the story...

One: Encountering Gotham...

Salem, Oregon was quite a way from Gotham City.

One month before Summer vacation, the ghouls got together, and decided to go on a road-trip. The only question was, where would they go? One by one, they offered up their ideas. Lagoona wanted to go to the ocean with Gil. "We always go places I want to go, and do things I want to do," she explained; "I think it would be nice for us to go somewhere he wants to go, for a change." The others could understand, but they had their own reasons for offering up options. Clawdeen suggested a vacation to a big city. "I mean, just think about it, ghouls!" she exclaimed. "The lights, the fashion, the culture! Everything's just bigger and livelier in the city!" Everybody was in awe over the possibility of experiencing the concrete jungle, in all it's electric glory. Frankie wanted to go somewhere they could experience the latest scientific and technological achievements, which seemed to fit in well with Clawdeen's suggestion. Draculaura suggested someplace with a highly developed cultural flavour. "Maybe we could go someplace like Broadway," she offered. "Think about it, ghouls! We could see an Andrew Lloyd Webber show!" Hence, the quandry: everybody seemed to want to go to different places, do different things, see different sights... while, somehow, at the same time, going on a road-trip together. The benefits of going together were obvious, the most important of which was the benefit of each friend working together with the others to help them keep their... interesting attributes under control. Draculaura needed to be on a strict vegan diet, to keep her from resorting to her addictive need for the life's blood of living creatures, and she needed at least a modicum of protection from the sun. Clawdeen, with her hypertrichosis and her hormonal cycles peaking during the full moon, needed to keep a supply of Nair available; not to mention her high-protein diet, and the need to be restrained from the full moon's direct exposure to her. Lagoona had a special moisturizer she'd need to keep on-hand, especially if she was in direct contact with the sun, or she'd dry up... as in, she'd die of dehydration. Fortunately for her, the solution was good both as a drink, and a lotion. Ghoulia had a special formula she and Cleo had worked on together, which kept her body from falling prey to her natural susceptibility to diseases and infections, but she still needed something that would keep her mind functioning with far greater energy than she could naturally muster for her body's functions. Cleo had her own needs, which required proximity to certain primitive technologies she often referred to as "enchanted objects" and ancient medical procedures that were passed down through her family, from generation to generation. That was easy enough to ensure, as she and her family had a vast fortune, especially considering their relation to the ancient Egyptian royalty and priesthood, and their ownership of ancient property and artifacts. Then, there was Frankie, whose system needed access to some kind of electrochemical stimulation on a regular basis.

Ever the polite, timid zombie, Ghoulia groaned her suggestion. "I think we're all forgetting something," she started... of course, for the benefit of the reader, what she actually said is translated from Zombie to English. "We're all talking about where we want to go, like these are all separate places, but they don't have to be!"

"Ghoulia's right!" Cleo supplemented. "Why should we compromise, when we don't have to? We can all have our dream vacation, and experience it together!"

And, so it was that they had planned and saved for an entire month. Three weeks before the trip, they had decided on a location: Gotham City, an intriguing location that offered everything you could find in places like New York or Los Angeles, and then some. The Gothic architecture, and intrepid displays of both fashionable culture and the art it all inspired, formed a synchronization with the natural beauty of the park and preserve, and their recently-renovated beachfronts and wharves.

Two weeks before the trip, their parents found out. At first, it looked like there was no way they would ever possibly be able to go on their road-trip now, especially with the extremely high crime-rate and deranged characters... not the least of which was the Batman.

"Absolutely not!" Dracula said to his beloved daughter, when she mentioned the name of the city. "I care not of the fates of your comrades, but I shall not allow you to risk the ire of the Dark Knight."

"But, Father!" Draculaura protested, "We are practically fully grown monsters, already! We can do things, of which the villains of Gotham City can only dream! We are fully aware of the dangers present, and we can care for ourselves. Father, this is the perfect location for our vacation! This may be the last time we can spend time together, before some of us must leave for higher deaducation!"

Dracula groaned. "First, you reject your heritage, and your need for blood. Then, you change your jargon to one I can hardly comprehend. Now, you demand I permit you leave to a village, guarded by one of the worst threats I've ever faced? No, this is unacceptable!" Dracula barked, fading into the shadows surrounding him.

At this cruel rejection of her dream vacation, Draculaura started to tear up. Her tears, composed of a fruity substance, as her diet no longer contained blood, left sparkling, sweet trails down her face, mingled with her natural makeup. "Why, Daddy?" she plead, a quiver in both her lips and her voice. "What have I done, to deserve this cold-hearted refusal?"

Dracula sighed, his head bowed. His daughter just didn't understand what happened, and what was at stake if the Caped Crusader got his claws on her. "It was years ago, on a... business trip," her father began, telling the story of his encounters with both Batman and Bruce Wayne. Of course, he left out his 'recruitment' of the living to the ranks of his undead organization, and his deliberate challenge to Batman's dominion over Gotham. He left out the way he had nearly broken Batman, both physically and psychologically. He left out the fact that, just like every other time he'd faced a van Helsing, this was yet another attempt at global domination. He never let his beloved daughter in on his darker side.

Draculaura's tears continued to trickle down her face, but this time, they had become tears of sympathy. She leapt at her father, from across hundreds of square feet of kitchen-space, and embraced him around his neck. "Oh, Daddy," she said with a huskiness to her voice that he hadn't heard in centuries, "Why didn't you say something before? If anything happened to you, I... I don't know what I would do."

She kissed his cold, dead cheek. "I know you're worried," she said, "But you can't keep treating me like a little girl. You know I only act like this because it's a welcome escape from the hard reality we must face. I love you, Father, and that will never change, but I need to experience this." Her pleading eyes spoke volumes. "We need to experience this. Please, I beg you, let me go on this vacation."

Dracula promised to think about it. By the end of the final week, he had managed to not only let his daughter go, but also to convince the other monster-parents to let their children go. The ghouls and their parents were all elated. What they didn't know was that Cleo's father spoke in private to Deuce.

"I understand you love my daughter," the imposing figure, flanked on both sides by Anubian demons, said.

"Of course, Sir," Deuce said, as respectfully as he could.

"My daughter chooses to take a prolonged excursion to a far-away land, called Gotham City," he said, his Egyptian roots coming out in his pronounciation of the city's name.

"Sir, I swear to you, she won't be going alone," Deuce replied. "I mean, not that I'll be sharing a room with her or anything... I mean, not that I don't want to... I mean, uh..." he continued, trying desperately to dig himself out of the hole he was in and only digging himself in deeper.

"I trust you with my daughter," her father replied, the light in his eyes transforming from a furious inferno to a reassuringly bright ember. "I understand your family has financial trouble. I shall arrange for your presence in Gotham City, at my own expense. In turn, you shall guard my daughter with your very life... with your very soul."

"You can count on me, Sir!" Deuce said, trying desperately to keep his elation hidden. He'd be able to join the ghouls on their trip, after all! Maybe, he'd even get the chance to spend some time alone with Cleo! On his way out of the monolithic palace, Deuce felt like dancing.

At the airport, the friends met in eager anticipation of their flight. It was decided that they would take a plane, instead of using their attributes to get their almost as quickly, mainly because Ghoulia couldn't have gotten there in time on her own, even with her souped-up scooter. On the plane, traveling Business Class, the ghouls had no idea that Deuce was sitting across two aisles from them, cleverly disguised both with his own skill, and his mother's enchanted amulet, which gave her the ability to look and sound absolutely normal. Frequently, each of them would take turns in the lavatory, applying moisturizer and sunscreen or removing hair, or using a solar-charged battery to shock themselves. "Where should we go first?" Draculaura asked, looking through brochures she printed off the Internet.

Cleo took one of the brochures, and looked through it with a typically bored expression, until she noticed something that made her sit up and take notice... at exactly the same time her favorite song came on her iCoffin. "Ghouls," she said, looking at the ancient statue of Bastet, the Egyptian cat goddess, "We're visiting the art museum first."

Watching them from a short distance, Deuce turned slightly toward the window, grateful for his shades as he faced the mid-day sun. Slipping out his iCoffin, Deuce sent a text to Cleo, hoping she didn't have any tracking apps.

Cleo looked down at her vibrating iCoffin, and checked the text. "Aw, how sweet!" she cooed. "It's from Deucie! He says, 'Hey babe, sry i cant b there with u 4 the trip, have a chilling time, luv u lots 3'!"

Ghoulia checked her iCoffin. "Wait," she groaned quietly, "how did you receive a text? I have no tombstones on mine."

Cleo looked at her phone; indeed, they were flying through a 'dead zone'. "Huh, weird," she said idly. "Oh, well, don't look a gift-crocodile in the mouth!"...

Meanwhile, in Gotham City...

"Master Bruce, do stop fidgeting," Alfred Pennyworth plead with his billionaire boss, as he adjusted Mr. Wayne's bowtie. "There we are, all nice and straight. You look very smart, Master Bruce."

"I just hope I don't have to take this thing off anytime soon," Bruce replied warily. "I'd probably end up having to rip the thing off."

Gathered in the midst of the crowd were two of Batman's most successful rogues: one vision in a skintight black gown that flared gracefully toward the bottom, and one dapper gentleman with flaming red hair and a contrasting emerald suit. "What do a Picasso of a clown, an Egyptian cat-idol, a recreation of Icarus' labyrinth, a Canaanite fertility goddess, and a bust of Janus, have in common?" asked the man in green.

The woman in black turned to him, and smiled a small, coy smile. "Almost like somebody's sending a message, don't you think?" she said quietly, idly looking back at the stage.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Edward replied, risking a glance at the pretty little kitty.

"Satisfaction brought it back," Selina returned, slipping subtly closer to the man in green. "It's been ages, Eddie. How are you? You look well."

"Well enough, dear Selina," Edward said. He didn't even have to look around. To two of the few people who knew the secret identity of Gotham's menacing guardian, it seemed like Bruce was peacocking by sponsoring this exhibit. To anyone else, Bruce seemed to be a cultured man of the world; of course, Selina and Eddie seemed like a couple of old friends, or perhaps coworkers, sharing some small talk before the main attraction.

As Bruce Wayne seemed to phase through to the center of the crowd, clinking his champagne glass with a small remote, all eyes were drawn to him. Batman was naturally solitary, just as much as he was naturally nocturnal or naturally adverse to drinking; as with the ginger ale in his champagne glass, Bruce's displays of extravagance were designed to fool the gullible and insane.

Speaking of 'insane', a deep purple Cadillac convertible pulled up to the front of the building. From the front and rear bumpers came a humongous, extendable pair of boxing-gloves, concealing some huge scoops that managed to punch out of the way the cars before and behind the Jokermobile. The roof folded back into the vehicle, allowing an easy escape for two rotund thugs named Punch and Judy, three muscle-bound apes named after the Three Stooges, two hyenas named Bud and Lou, Harley Quinn, and of course, the posh figure of the Joker himself. "Places, everyone!" Joker said with a quirky, unsettling tone that didn't quite match either his flambuoyant gesticulations or his marred, painted face. "Remember your roles and lines, mind the timing, and for God's sakes, don't leave one piece of vandalism untouched! Oh, and of course, as always..." He turned his back to the building, and gave a creepy, not-quite-genuine grin to his gang. "Have FUN with it."

"... middle of this exhibit, we plan to give you all a sneak peek into the future of art, only available in Gotham!" Bruce Wayne said, with a sort of excitement that almost made him sound like a proud uncle. "There's an extremely talented young lady in our midst, who has generated a piece of holographic laser-art that changes to reflect the times! Ms. Barbara Gordon, please come forward and share this spotlight with me!" Bruce asked with a charisma that seemed infectious, starting a round of applause.

Barbara Gordon wheeled through the crowd, dressed in a stunning violet gown: one picked out for her by Dick, when they were dating. He had wanted to take her to the opening ceremony for Titans Tower, but that just happened to be the day that both Bane and the General were in town. Needless to say, Dick wasn't able to make it, because Nightwing had to team up with Batman, yet again. Did she feel resentful toward Bruce? Not one bit: she, like all the members of the Bat family, understood the burden of responsibility that came with taking on the mantle of a crime-fighter. In a way, it was like being related to a police officer, except that the officer often was in less danger than the superhero in question. For Barbara, she had been both doubly blessed, and doubly cursed: her father was the Commissioner - located toward the front of the crowd, - and the only man she would ever love, Dick Grayson, was a superhero. That's why, eventually, they decided to split up, though they remained friends... and, on some nights, they would even come dangerously close to being more than friends, again. "I want to thank Mr. Bruce Wayne for his extremely generous contributions to the G.C.P.D., and their 'Grounded Angels' foundation," she began, feeling Bruce's strong, nurturing hand on her shoulder. She reached up and patted it. "If it wasn't for him, God only knows where I'd be today. I'd also like to thank him for spending time with me, encouraging me to find a more fulfilling avenue for my life, since the incident." Barb didn't have to say what it was; everybody in Gotham knew about the Joker taking away her ability to walk with the help of a cop-killer bullet, how he subjected her to psychological torture and humiliation by stripping her and taking pictures, so he could use them to get to her father. Dick's smile, warm and bittersweet, brought her back to the present. "Without further ado, I'd like to bring up a very dear, sweet friend, and former boyfriend of mine, to unveil the program with me. Richard Grayson, please step forward."

Usually, Dick was the one to surprise Barb; this time, she got the proverbial drop on him, causing his eyes to widen, and his heartbeat to speed up. Dick was no stranger to attention; the reason his heartbeat sped up was just because that's what Barbara could do to him. Just her voice made him feel the blood rush to his face, warming it and turning it a slight shade of pink. He stepped forward nonetheless, and grasped Barb's free hand. "I, um... I don't really have a way with words," he began, looking into Barb's eyes and feeling them drawing him into that Elysian bliss he'd felt thousands of times before, "But it wouldn't really do me any good anyway, because words can't do justice to how proud of Barb I am. This is just one of her many stellar achievements, though it's certainly a beautiful one." His look said it all: though the hologram was, indeed, a work of art, she was even more gorgeous to him.

Dick mouthed, 'together', and brought the hem of the covering to Barb's hand. Indeed, together, they unveiled a picture that only those privileged to call themselves Bruce's friends and family would have seen: Gotham, at sunrise, from the vantage point of the roof of Wayne Manor. Though only a few caught it, nobody said anything about how the outlines of the buildings in the city seemed to somehow form the Bat symbol... an homage to the ideals every member of the Bat family shared, more so than any one particular member.

The applause covered the sudden entry of several of the members of the Joker's gang into the facility, though they were easy to spot from all the Bats in attendance. Dick and Barb looked at Bruce with forced smiles, their eyes darting to the entrance. Bruce nodded slowly, his smile also forced. 'We'll talk later,' he mouthed while nobody was watching, leading them back to Commissioner Gordon...

Meanwhile, the plane to Gotham City had touched down, and the ghouls were on their way to the Marriott, followed at a short distance by Deuce. In his disguise, he blended in perfectly with the Gothamites, slipping in and out of crowds like the snakes that adorned his head would have done, had they been freed from his scalp.

Once the ghouls checked into their suite - not too long before Deuce checked into his, which was immediately next door, - they caught a taxi to a local rent-a-car dealership. Meanwhile, Deuce got into a taxi of his own, and paid the driver $1,000.00 to be his private chauffeur for the day, no questions asked. The cabbie, glad to take the job, followed the rented Escalade all over town.

First, they went on a shopping spree at the Kane Mall, which left Deuce almost as exhausted as he thought Ghoulia might have been, had she not been a zombie. Next, they stopped by an expensive restaurant, where each of them ordered something different. Clawdeen ordered Steak Tartare, at Draculaura's insistence, further excited by the mention of how bloody the dish was. Draculaura, herself, stuck with a fruit juice blend, accompanied with a vegan salad and raspberry vinaigrette. Speaking of berries, Cleo ordered the most expensive thing on the menu - lobster, stuffed with goose liver pate', - and a side of grapes and pomegranates, citing the fact that it was Deuce's favourite fruit as her reason. She was all too happy to share her lobster with Lagoona; it was entirely too much for her, anyway. Frankie ordered a latte' and a pastry; along with the rest of the table's orders, it gave her ample time to go next door to a department store, sneak into a dressing-room, and charge herself up a little more. Cleo also ordered for Ghoulia: a gyro with everything, Cajun-fried potato wedges, and a large cherry milkshake. After that last order, the waiter gave Cleo a funny look. "Did I stutter?" she asked, her icy glare moving him faster than Clawdeen during her race against Heath Burns.

Finally, their meals finished, they got directions to the museum. After getting the wrong museum twice, they finally found it. "Rogues-Gallery-Inspired Exhibit, hm?" Cleo wondered as they entered.

Draculaura had a bad feeling about the whole thing. Sure, she had led her friends to the idea of going on the trip in the first place, and sure, she had been the one to influence Cleo's decision to visit the museum in the first place... but she had done some research on Batman, and knew that he tended to take souvenirs from his enemies after a battle. The reference to a 'rogues' gallery' had her thinking... could the Batman be here, of all places? Was her father's fear nearer than she suspected... perhaps, even, in that very building? What about some of his famous rogues? Were they walking into an inevitable death-trap? And, what about the smell of poisoned blood that seemed to emanate from the gaudy purple convertible outside, parked between two severely battered cars?


End file.
